


Friday Mornings

by Kellec



Series: Thursday Nights [2]
Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Body Worship, Bottom Lalo, Dream Sex, First Time, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, PWP, Power Dynamics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellec/pseuds/Kellec
Summary: Nacho called Lalo. Lalo answered. This is what happens immediately after.
Relationships: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Series: Thursday Nights [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875106
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Back again with a follow-up to Thursday Nights that I really wasn't intending to write.  
> This was meant to be a single-chapter fic with this chapter as the short introduction but I decided to split it in two, so keep your eyes peeled for an update!
> 
> This chapter takes place some time not long before Thursday Nights, with the next one picking up right where that fic left off.  
> Also, this is easily the most filthy thing I've ever published, so comments and kudos are appreciated xx

_Nacho recognises where he is. It’s his old high school, and he’s running for his life down the cavernous main hallway. All the lights are out, and all he can see by is the scant moonlight getting in through the windows. It paints the way in harsh contrasts._

_The corridor is wide and lined with open doorways, pitch black and uninviting. He can hear the mechanical whine of sewing machines from some of them and the sound of grilling meat from others. He passes one and hears Domingo’s cries for mercy on the day he beat him senseless._

_He doesn’t know where he is or where he’s running, but he knows why he’s running._

_Lalo is here too. And if he finds him, he’s going to kill him._

_The corridor ends abruptly with a closed door, and his heels skid on the linoleum floor in his rush to slow down. He shoulders the door open and pushes his way in. Looking back down the corridor sees a pair of glowing eyes grow closer and closer._

_Nacho rushes through and shoves the door closed behind him, but his forcing it open has broken the latch. He can’t keep Lalo on the other side of this door, and even if he could he’d probably find another way in. He’s going to have to hide._

_He takes stock of his new surroundings. He’s in an auditorium, nearly pitch black aside from the light coming in through the high, narrow windows. He sees a short flight of stairs to the side of the stage. Maybe back there he can find a way out._

_Nacho throws himself up the stairs, his feet heavy on the wooden floor. It’s pitch black in the wings, which makes it easier to see the green neon glow of the emergency exit on the other side of the stage._

_He only manages to take two steps when he hears the doors open violently._

_Nacho freezes, halfway through a stride, grateful for the pitch-black shadows that shelter him. He can see Lalo’s silhouette past the edge of the stage. He throws a hand over his mouth and tries desperately to calm his breathing. Lalo is just standing there, waiting for him to give himself away._

_Nacho’s legs ache with his awkward posture, all his weight on the balls of his feet. Maybe, just maybe, Lalo wouldn’t notice one little step. He shifts his weight to rest on his front leg._

_His heel clicks against the wooden stage._

_Lalo’s head immediately turns to look at him. Sweat beads on Nacho’s forehead. He knows Lalo can’t see him. He’s past the reach of the moonlight and in complete darkness. Still, Lalo is looking right at him._

_Lalo crosses the floor and hoists himself up onto the stage He walks without making a sound. He heads in the direction of the emergency exit, blocking off Nacho’s only escape, but it’s a promising sign that he doesn’t know where Nacho is._

_A few more steps, the moonlight harsh on his back, and then he too is submerged in shadows. Nacho struggles to balance his breathing. He has no idea where Lalo is._

_Moments pass in the still, quiet, darkness. Nacho has no idea where Lalo is. His own blood rushes in his ears like a torrent._

_And then a warm gust of laughter brushes his face._

_“Ohh, Ignacio,” Lalo whispers into the space between them, “you’re going to have to do better than that.”_

_Nachoʼs heart leaps up his throat. His adrenaline kicks in and he makes a desperate sprint for freedom._

_He doesn’t get far. Lalo grabs him and knocks his feet from under him, slamming him down on the stage floor. Nacho’s vision swims as Lalo drags him into the half-light. When his sight finally comes back, the first thing he sees is the glint of a knife in Lalo’s hand._

_He tries to fight away, but the other man subdues him easily, knife forgotten for a moment as he pins Nacho’s hands and straddles his hips._

_“That’s what I always liked about you, Nachito,” Lalo laughs. The sound of it is unbelievably cruel. “Most men in your situation would be begging for mercy, but you? You still got enough spark in you to try and fight me off.”_

_Nacho hears he hum of a projector starting up, and suddenly the room isn’t as dark anymore. He turns his head, and on the back wall he can see a grainy film of every lie he’s told Lalo, and the truth he was passing on to Fring in its place._

_“But that’s the problem with men who have too much pride, eh?” Lalo whispers in his ears. “You never know when to quit.”_

_Nacho let’s out a ragged breath, realizing that this is it. He’s beaten. “My father-”_

_“Don’t worry about him,” Lalo snaps. “Worry about yourself for a minute. Trust me, you’re in far greater danger.”_

_Nacho looks back up at him. Lalo has the knife back and is twirling it in the air like a conductor’s baton, as if he’s deciding where to cut him first. Nacho closes his eyes and clenches his fists in preparation for the pain._

_But instead he feels cold air on his hears cold, cruel laughter. He dares to open his eyes and sees Lalo smiling down at him._

_“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Iʼve got something much better for you.”_

_Lalo takes Nacho’s face between his hands and kisses him on the mouth._

_Nacho’s eyes grow wide in confusion. He tries to toss Lalo off, but finds his hands and his hips too heavy for him to lift, even unpinned. Lalo’s tongue passes between his lips, kissing him like a lover. His hands push up the hem of Nacho’s shirt, and, to Nacho’s horror, he reaches for his fly._

_Nacho is still frozen as Lalo slides down his body, pressing warm kisses down his stomach and abdomen as he undoes his button and zip. Nacho clenches his eyes shut and tries to fight away the feeling of warmth turning in his stomach. They fly open when Lalo grasps his cock and laps at his head. One hand is suddenly free, and the first thing he does with it is bury his fingers in Lalo’s hair. That earns him a warm chuckle and a lick up the underside of his cock before Lalo swallows him whole._

_Nacho’s entire body flushes hot. The feeling of Lalo’s mouth is indescribable. His narrow lips are surprisingly soft, and with every bob of his head he manages to take Nacho deeper into his throat. It only takes him a few strokes before he’s taking Nacho down to the root, and Nacho can’t help the gasp that leaves his throat. At first, he’s is irritated by the scratch of Lalo’s moustache against his stomach, but soon he can’t get enough of it, canting his hips up into Lalo’s mouth to catch it against his abdomen._

_Lalo hums around him and lays a hand over Nacho’s and encourages him to push. Nacho’s head spins at the invitation. He grips Lalo’s thick hair and pulls his head down, rocking into the warm wet heat of his mouth._

_He gasps when a pair of fingers drift around his hole. One of them pushes with certainty, and Lalo slips into him with ease. Nacho pulls his head down with force and holds him there, forcing him to ride it out. Lalo groans and pushes his fingers in further._

_Suddenly, Lalo is off of him, swatting away his forceful hand like it’s nothing. He opens his own pants and spits into his palm, stroking himself while his eyes stayed glued on Nacho._

_He doesn’t need to be told twice. Nacho pulls his own jeans the rest of the way down, kicking off his boots in the process._

_Lalo slides forward, settling in between Nacho’s thighs, hand still on his cock. Nacho wraps his legs around him and uses his leverage to haul him the rest of the way forward._

_Lalo leans over him, propped up on one elbow. He only breaks eye contact to glance down to where he’s guiding himself. Nacho can’t see in the darkness, but he can feel something blunt and slick press at his entrance. He sucks in a breath as Lalo pushes forward, breaching him._

_Nacho can’t keep down a half-pained groan as Lalo stretches him. Lalo’s bigger than he expected, and his prep left something to be desired. Once he’s fully seated, hips flushed to Nacho’s, Lalo tosses his head back and groans at the ceiling._

_“Fuckkk, Ignacio,” he sighs, “you’re better than I imagined.” His fingertips dig into Nacho’s sides._

_All Nacho can manage to do is nod. His lips are locked between his teeth, scared that if he opens his mouth he’ll release a wanton moan. He shifts against Lalo and presses his heels into his back, trying to draw in as much of him as he can. Lalo laughs and leans back down into Nacho’s face._

_“Someone’s eager,” he purrs. He plants a kiss just above Nacho’s eye and lets his grin press against Nacho’s forehead._

_“How about I give you what you want?”_

_Nacho makes a half-grunt, half-groan in affirmation and nods his head. Lalo kisses him sweetly again and is suddenly moving inside him._

_Nacho’s hands curl into fists next to his head. He’s no virgin, but it’s been long enough that Lalo’s languid pace is enough to have him stifling gasps. Lalo’s hands are like vices on his thighs as he thrusts into him, slowly and methodically._

_Then he brushes Nacho’s prostate, and all hope is lost._

_The gasp that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly wanton, and suddenly Lalo stops. Nacho dares to open his eyes and look at him in the shifting light of the projector. His face is open, almost vulnerable. He carefully lifts Nacho’s legs higher and leans back for a better angle._

_The first thrust is so hard is takes Nacho’s breath away. When he finally regains it, he lets out a moan that reverberates through the auditorium. Lalo groans deep in his chest at the sound of it, pace hard and steady._

_“That’s it, Ignacio,” He growls, “sing for me!”_

_Nacho is a writhing mess on the stage. His vocalizations and the slapping of skin compete in volume with the projector playing out his life’s worst mistakes above them. Lalo’s hand lands on his stiff cock, twisting at the root and setting the same pace as his thrusts._

_He’s gasping for breath and heat is twisting low in his belly. Nacho opens his eyes to tell Lalo that he’s close._

_But when he looks up, Lalo’s serene expression is gone. It’s been replaced with his usual grin. His eyes are glowing again._

_He just sees the glint of the knife before Lalo slashes his throat._

* * *

Nacho woke up with a start. He was covered in sweat and lying on his stomach, hands clenched in the bottom sheet. He took three deep breaths and looked around the room, grounding himself. It had been years since he’d had such a vivid nightmare. He hadn’t been sure he was capable of them anymore.

He winced as he felt something damp under his hips and rolled onto his side to check what it was. He sighed when he found his dick rock hard against his abdomen, dark head drooling precome. He dragged a hand down his face. He didn’t think he was capable of those kinds of dreams anymore either.

He looked to the other side of the bed to see Amber curled up next to him. He woke her with a gentle shake. She rolled over a blinked at him sleepily. He guided her hand down to his cock, and her eyes suddenly became alert.

They lay together in the afterglow, her body cradled against his own, leg between his thighs. She’d been more than happy to climb on top and ride him to a shaky climax. He tried to pay her back in kind, but she’d curled up against him and fallen back asleep almost instantly. And now here he was, staring at the ceiling at 3AM, just himself and his thoughts.

He squeezed Amber’s shoulder. This was what he wanted. He’d enjoyed the times he’d had before with men, but if liking men put him at risk of having sex with Lalo, he’d let women tide him over for the rest of his life.

Nacho couldn’t help but be irritated that the thigh slotted between his was so narrow and soft.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Did you miss me :3c
> 
> I know we're all mad about not getting the Lacho deleted scene so I hope this is the next best thing. Apologies for a nearly four month wait for another chapter! I've been going crazy applying for jobs and finishing my degree. I hope that the fact that this chapter is more than 3x longer than the first makes up for it x
> 
> Timeline-wise, this chapter takes place a few days before Wexler v. Goodman, meaning Lalo's been in Albuquerque for about two months. Please enjoy!

Lalo scraped his fork on his plate, dragging little streaks of oil across Hector’s good porcelain. He shoved the barely eaten dish away in frustration. He didn’t know how the gringos up here survived on such terrible meat.

He’d gone to the priciest butcher in town and bought the best cut he could find. He’d followed Yolanda’s recipe for shredded beef to the letter, doing everything but calling her and asking her to recite it to him step-by-step over the phone. He’d let it slow cook for hours until it was falling apart at the slightest agitation. Every ingredient he could have made at home, he did. And even for all that effort, his dinner was still as bland and oily as cheap takeout.

He tossed his cloth napkin across the table and carried his dishes to the kitchen. If he were up here any longer, he’d have to find a rancher he trusted and buy his beef directly from them, like he did back home. 

_Home._ Now that was a thought he hadn’t had in a while. He ran his pots and plates under the hot water. Looking out Hector’s kitchen window, he had a good view of Albuquerque, currently washed red in the dusk light. Hector’s place was right on the edge of town, with a few hundred yards between him and his neighbours on either side.

He could understand why his old suspicious uncle would want a house out here, far from prying eyes. Especially given how probing the locals were. The day he’d moved in, four different residents had “just dropped in” to “welcome the new arrival.” He won them over with a lightly sanitized version of the truth, that his dear tío had suffered a stroke, and he was moving in to look after him and take care of the family business. With a few downcast looks and flashes of a winning smile, they ate it all up. With any luck, they’d never bother him again.

It was ridiculous, childish, even, that a man his age could suffer from homesickness. He’d served five years in prison, and in all that time hadn’t felt half as sullen as this. But that had been a prison back home, and there he’d been treated like royalty. Here, the gringos looked at him with typical loathing, and the chicanos smart enough to recognise him for what he was cowered away from him. That same fear usually made him feel powerful, but here it just reminded him how alone he was.

Although, he wasn’t entirely alone. Tuco’s crew weren’t the brightest he’d come across, but they were loyal and knew when to give respect, and, if all else failed, they were always fun to torment.

He’d visited Tuco on his way up, to get a good perspective on the business before diving in headfirst. Prison had been doing him well. His crystal habit had been forcibly kicked, and in its absence had returned the clarity in his eyes and the fullness and colour of his face.

“When you get there,” he said, “look out for Nacho Varga. He’s my number one guy, and he’s been doing good work since tío had his stroke.”

Lalo sucked on his teeth. He didn’t like the idea of someone outside of the family being left with the keys to the kingdom. He should’ve come north sooner.

“Nacho Varga.” He tapped his knuckles against the visitor’s room table. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

And keep an eye on him he had. The first time he met Varga, the man up north had eyed him suspiciously, graciously turning down the food Lalo cooked for him. _Good_ , he had thought. Varga was a little headstrong for his liking, but there was nothing Lalo hated more than a sycophant.

As the weeks passed, Lalo came to understand what Tuco saw in his pet peasant more and more. Varga was precise, calm. He knew when to pick a fight and when to play the mediator. And, most impressively, he seemed to have a bottomless reserve of loyalty for the Salamanca family. He’d intrigued Lalo. And ever since that night where he’d jumped across a building and outmanoeuvred the cops all to retrieve a handful of 8 balls, he’d enthralled him.

He’d teased, and he’d goaded, and he’d sat by quietly, letting Ignacio move at his own pace towards him, letting him be convinced that an affair would be his own idea.

Lalo had let it go not much later, when he’d heard that Varga had two girls living with him, both apparently “fly lil’ mamas” by Blingy’s account. Plenty of fish in the sea Lalo had consoled himself, even if Ignacio would have been a prize catch.

Lalo fell into the leather lounge suite, groaning as his back and legs sunk into the plush upholstery. _Dios mío,_ when had he become an old man? He picked up the remote and flicked through to the Spanish language channels. He stopped when he caught site of a _Love Blooms in the Dessert_ rerun. It was Yolanda’s favourite, and he gave her free reign of the living room whenever it was on. If he couldn’t be home, and food wasn’t helping him feel like he was there, then maybe this would help.

Lalo’s eyelids were drooping only fifteen minutes in. All this show reminded him of was why he never sat down to watch it with Yolanda when he was home. She was a sweet woman and a brilliant cook, but her taste in telenovelas was inexplicable. As Lalo struggled to keep his eyes open, he realised that he hadn’t slept since Tuesday. If everything was calm on the streets, and there was no work to be done in the house, then maybe he could spare a few hours to rest.

But even good sleep seemed set on evading him tonight. He was snapped awake from his dozing by his cell phone ringing on the end table. His neck was stiff from the position he’d slept in, and there was a stale taste in his mouth that told him he’d been out for at least a few hours. He dragged a hand down his groggy face and collected the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

Ignacio was curt as ever on the other end of the line, but his voice was rough and low. Lalo sat up a little straighter at the sound of it.

“Hola, Ignacio! What can I do for you?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Someone’s feeling chatty tonight,” Lalo joked. The other end of the line was silent. “I’m at Hector’s old place, in for the night. Why?”

“The one out past Sandia Heights?”

Lalo hesitated. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Cool. I’m coming over.”

Lalo heard the familiar sound of Ignacio’s Javelin rev into life, and then the line was dead. The dial tone hummed in his ear before he even realized the conversation was over.

He turned the phone over in his hand. Why would Varga be so desperate to find him right now?

When the answer came to his sleep-stalled mind, Lalo couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it. Weeks of coveting Varga, waiting for him to make the first play, seemingly gone to waste, only for him to declare his intentions in the middle of the night.

“Well,” Lalo murmured to himself, “shit.”

He hauled himself off the couch and collected a glass of water from the sink, rinsing out his mouth before filling it again and drinking it down. He went to the bathroom to wash his face and splash a few drops of cologne on himself before brushing the last of the stale taste out of his mouth.

Lalo walked back into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of scotch from the bar and settled back into the couch, ready and waiting for whatever surprise Ignacio had in store.

He watched the clock above the fireplace roll from 11:59 Thursday night to 12am Friday morning. A brand-new day, full of new possibilities.

The bright twin beams of headlights shone through the window of his front room. He heard the steady putter of the engine cut out at the same moment the beams died. A car door opened and shut. Lalo smiled and brought his drink to his lips.

Nacho’s knock on the door was half-frantic. Lalo stood and set down the drink, taking the time to stretch his back and arms before he ambled to the entrance.

When he opened the door, Ignacio was looking away, over his shoulder and into the blackness of the desert night, as if making sure he hadn’t been followed. He spun around to Lalo, a look of bewilderment on his face, like even he wasn’t sure how he got there. A coyote howled in the distance.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Lalo returned in kind. He couldn’t keep down a smile. Whatever reason Ignacio had for being here, it was sure to be a good story. He stood aside and ushered him in.

“So, what’s up?” He pulled the door closed behind his guest.

“Nothing, man,” Ignacio shrugged. “I was just, uh, hanging out with this girl.”

Lalo’s brows rose. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Ignacio rubbed at his face, sucking at his teeth, and thinking very hard about what he would say next. “But I had to leave, because things got… kinda weird.”

“Weird how?” Lalo probed. He was determined not to make this easy for him.

Nacho’s face was suddenly stone, and he looked at Lalo like he was ready to murder him.

“What do you want from me?” He breathed into the still air.

“I have no idea, Ignacio,” Lalo shrugged. “What is it that you think I want from you?” He noticed that one side of Varga’s collar was raised, and he reached out to adjust it.

Nacho’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist hard, pulling Lalo closer into his space. He was breathing hard, and Lalo could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’ve been trying to fuck me for weeks,” he growled.

Lalo’s plan of goading Varga any further came to a halt. He had been ready to count on Nacho’s usual rationale to keep anything bad from happening, but he’d never seen him this drunk, or this fired up. At this point, denial would only make him angrier, and meeting his energy would likely be a mistake.

Lalo gently lifted his wrist towards his face and kissed the knuckles on Nacho’s clenched hand.

“Guilty as charged, Nachito.”

Nacho’s posture shifted. His body language relaxed, not quite in joy, but in something closer to relief that his suspicions were confirmed.

Feeling bolder, Lalo trailed his other hand up Nacho’s arm, his muscles still tense as he held Lalo’s wrist in a vice-like grip. His fingers drifted over his firm bicep. They both watched, seemingly hypnotised by the movements of Lalo’s fingertips.

“I guess the question now,” Lalo whispered, “is what you’re gonna do about it.”

They looked up and their eyes met. Varga was still breathing hard, but the murderous glint was gone from his eyes. He released Lalo’s wrist, only to grab the back of his head and haul him into a kiss.

Their mouths crashed together, Lalo nearly faltering under Varga’s insistent pressure. He had to grab the couch arm to keep Nacho from toppling them over. He’d spent enough time looking at Nacho’s lips to imagine what they would feel like – soft, wide, demanding – and it still didn’t come close to the reality. He was unrelenting. Lalo had to use both hands to pull him away before he broke the kiss.

“Good effort, Ignacio,” Lalo said, his voice ragged, desperate for air, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I want you,” Nacho answered immediately, kissing Lalo again. The sharp edge of his front teeth scraped Lalo’s lip and he huffed. Varga’s enthusiasm had gone from endearing to irritating. He pulled his away with more force this time. One hand remained loosely around his throat.

“Easy, chico.” Lalo’s voice was a low rumble. He put a little more force into the thumb resting over Nacho’s windpipe, and he stilled almost completely, like a dog called to heel. “What makes you think you’re gonna get what you want, hm? You think I just give it up for every guy who asks, huh? Is that it?” He egged himself on, letting his own words inflame him. All Nacho could do was blink at him. He tapped him with the back of his hand. “Eh, wake up Nachito, I asked you a question.”

Nacho’s breathing was shaky again, but he didn’t fight Lalo’s grip on his throat.

“Please, Lalo,” he begged. “I’m sick of all the games. I need you. I’ll do anything.”

The confession surprised Lalo. Heat pooled in his stomach at the desperation in Nacho’s voice. He’s just made the fatal mistake of saying exactly what he wanted. Surprisingly sloppy from someone who was usually such a strong negotiator. Oh, well, he could blame it on the alcohol.

“Anything is a big offer, Ignacio.” But he just kept looking at him with those big, pleading eyes. He really meant anything.

_Anything._ Now that presented a number of possibilities. He moved his hand from Nacho’s throat and settled it against the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. He could tie him up and blindfold him. Lalo pictured it, Nacho thrashing blindly, his bound hands grasping at nothing while Lalo drove him crazy. He could break out the collection of toys he’d brought to Albuquerque – instruments of torture in more ways than one. He could spend all night turning Ignacio inside out until not a single inch of his beautiful skin was left unmarked.

All very appealing prospects, but maybe for another time.

He tugged at Nacho’s collar. He’d always admired his sense of style. He was clearly a man who cared dearly about his image.

“How about we get all this out of the way, huh?” Lalo smoothed down the shirt front, taking in the definition of his pectorals and abs through the fabric. “I want to know what I’m working with.”

Nacho breathed deeply then nodded. His hands went straight to his shirt buttons, which he rushed to undo.

“Uh uh,” Lalo chastised. He stilled Nacho’s hands by grabbing his wrists. “What’s the rush, cariño?” He planted a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. “We’ve got all night.”

Blood rushed to Nacho’s face. “You want me to strip for you?”

“Exactamente.” Lalo slipped out of Nacho’s arms and collected his neglected drink.

“Go on, Ignacio.” Lalo settled into the tan leather, drink in hand, arms over the back of the couch. “Thrill me. Show me what it is that makes the girls go crazy.”

Nacho suddenly stiffened, and Lalo wondered for a moment if he would refuse. If he’d lost his nerve, now was a hell of a time for it to happen.

But his composure was back within moments. Nacho rubbed the back of his neck, fingers trailing around and down his torso. His eyes slid closed as his hands slid back up, as if he were simply luxuriating in the feeling of his own hands on his body. When he opened them to half-lids, he looked directly at Lalo. The barest of smiles played on his lips. Lalo took a sip to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

Nacho’s hands drifted back down his front, opening every shirt button with slow precision. This was still familiar territory for them both. Lalo smiled at the memory of Nacho in the back of El Michoacáno, undressing for him under the thin guise of showing off his battle scars. The memory was all the sweeter now, knowing that it hadn’t been in vain.

Nacho slid the red button-down off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind him. His eyes were still fixed on Lalo, who was currently kicking himself for not thinking to put on music. Not that Ignacio needed it, but every performance could be elevated.

He reached for the hem of his undershirt and dragged it ever so slowly up his torso. Lalo watched as each pair of abs were revealed. Nacho finally pulled the whole thing off and over his head, showing off his defined pectorals and that beautiful bullet scar. Lalo tried to put on the air of disinterest, as if the display was having no effect on him at all, but something told him he was failing miserably.

Nacho tossed the undershirt away. His hands settled on his abdomen before trailing down to his fly. Lalo shifted in his seat, sitting up in anticipation. He watched as every new inch of skin was slowly revealed, from his solid thighs to his strong calves and down to where he stepped out of the pants. Lalo watched his fumbling dance out of the tight jean cuffs with a slight smile.

Nacho stood straight again, letting Lalo soak him in for a moment. Lalo’s eyes raked over him. There was a lot for Nacho to be proud of. His eyes kept drifting down to his tight black briefs, and the defined bulge in the front of them. Lalo could swear his heart was beating a little faster. A lot to be proud of indeed.

After the moment, Nacho reached for the waistband of his briefs.

“Wait,” Lalo said, throwing up a hand. “Leave those on.” He set down his glass and hoisted himself off the couch. He walked well into Nacho’s space, standing right in front of him and looking him up and down deliberately. Nacho held his gaze, barely blinking. Impressive.

He wrapped a hand around Nacho’s bicep, squeezing the muscle hard. “Nice.” His fingertips trailed down Nacho’s back, stopping at his ass and gripping with both hands. “Very nice. But -”

One hand drifted around, fingers hooking into his waistband.

“There’s one last thing I have to see for myself.”

Nacho kept his steady, half-lidded gaze. His proud, bored expression was a challenge laid down. _Do your worst._ Lalo smiled and gave Nacho a tender kiss. _You have no idea what you’re in for._

Lalo slipped a hand fully into Nacho’s shorts, sliding his loose fist down his whole length. Nacho sighed at the contact and rested his head on Lalo’s shoulder.

“Look at you, huh?” Lalo breathed against Nacho’s cheek. One hand remained on Nacho’s member while the other slowly worked down the elastic of Nacho’s shorts. “Brave, strong Ignacio, running to my house in the middle of the night, begging me to fuck him.” Lalo sunk down to the floor, wincing as his knees creaked with the effort. _Damn,_ next time he’d have to do this on a carpeted floor.

Nacho was stone above him, eyes closed and fists curling and uncurling at his sides. Lalo tweaked his thigh and his eyes snapped open with a breathy gasp.

“Eyes down here, Ignacio,” he gripped his cock at the base and twisted up. “I want you to watch.”

Nacho complied; his eyes fixed on Lalo. One hand drifted to the back of Lalo’s head and gripped at his hair. Lalo relished the tension against his scalp.

Lalo spread his tongue flat and licked Nacho’s cock from base to tip. It was thicker than his own and with slightly less length, but it had a very appealing upward curve. He looked up, meeting Nacho’s eye as he circled the tip with his tongue before taking him all the way in.

Lalo couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of Nacho hitting the back of his throat. He tried to think back to the last time he’d been with a man, and with some surprise realized that it was before he’d even come to Albuquerque. He’d been so busy going after Fring and worrying about Hector that the games he’d been playing on Ignacio were the most action he’d gotten since being here. But oh, how those games were now paying dividends.

The hand in his hair tightened and loosened with the bobbing off his head. While Nacho had been stripping, he had been trying to decide whether to bend him over the kitchen table and really show him who he was dealing with, or let him climb on top and feel like he was in charge. Now, with his lips around him and his tongue under him, Lalo’s decision was made. It’d been too long since he’d been fucked, and Ignacio had such a fine cock that he wasn’t shy about sharing that it would be a shame to waste.

Nacho was nearly panting by the time Lalo pulled off. Lalo grabbed his hands and used Nacho’s weight to counterbalance him as he hauled himself up. He kissed him again, more lingering this time, and wove his fingers through his companions.

“This way,” he whispered against Nacho’s lips, tugging him in the direction of the bedroom.

Sheer curtains floated in the draught from the master bedroom’s just-open windows. The room was wide and sparsely decorated, consisting mostly of a king-size bed, nightstand, chest of drawers and walk-in wardrobe, with an attached en suite. Lalo didn’t like to travel heavy, and anything he needed but didn’t have with him he could simply buy again.

He kissed Nacho as they crossed the threshold, allowing himself to be manhandled slightly as Nacho knocked him backwards onto the bed. There was one streetlight on this road, sitting over a dangerous intersection, within view of Lalo’s back garden. Its coppery light shone through the sliding glass doors, setting the room in strong contrast. Lalo lay down and looked up at Nacho’s looming silhouette. The light shone over his shoulders and between his legs, his face obscured in total darkness. He looked dangerous and beautiful. Maybe Lalo was the one who didn’t know what he was in for.

He trailed a hand up the side of Nacho’s thigh, other hand working deftly to unbutton his shirt. Nacho climbed across the bed and joined him, starting at the lowest button, and working his way up until he and Lalo met in the middle. Lalo caught his lips in a kiss as he sat up to work the button-down off his arms. As soon as it was off Nacho hiked the undershirt up Lalo’s back and over his head.

Lalo held him there for a moment in a kiss, luxuriating in the feeling of Nacho’s bare chest pressed to his own. It didn’t last, however, as an impatient Nacho shoved him firmly back onto the bed, grabbing his belt buckle with determination. Lalo laughed briefly at his insistence. Nacho was working him like a man possessed, and he was more than happy to lie back and enjoy the ride.

Nacho pulled his jeans and shorts down so fast that the denim scraped his legs on the way off. The slight pain was only countered by the relief of his erection finally being freed. Nacho licked a wide stripe across his palm and took Lalo in hand, stroking him firmly.

Lalo’s hip’s bucked with the motion. He let his eyes fall closed and sunk into the sensation. When he opened them again, Nacho was watching him like he was under a microscope.

“You have any lube?”

He nodded, fumbling for the top drawer of the nightstand, fingers wrapping around a plastic tube. He passed it to Nacho and leaned back over to reach in for a condom. He caught a golden wrapper between his fingers and rolled back fully onto the bed but dropped it on his own chest at the shock of two cold, slick fingers pressing against his hole.

“Fuck, Ignacio!” He groaned. “Give a man some warning next time, eh?”

“Sorry”, Nacho mumbled absently, too focused on where he was working Lalo open to even meet his eye. He was completely transfixed. Heat pooled in Lalo’s stomach at his expression.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, “Just come here and kiss me.”

Nacho leaned down and met Lalo’s lips with enthusiasm. Lalo groaned when Nacho finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. He wrapped his legs around Nacho and drew him in closer.

Ignacio worked him open insistently. Lalo moaned into Nacho’s mouth as he spread his fingers, slipping a third into the free space. Lalo couldn’t help but wince at the stretch. He was no virgin, but it had been a while, and Nacho in his eagerness was rushing through the steps, as if the night were a race instead of a dance.

Lalo was snapped out of his thoughts as Nacho brushed his prostate. He broke the kiss, muttering a curse against the other man’s cheek. Nacho leaned forward and caught his ear lobe between his teeth. Lalo felt the scrape of the condom wrapper against his chest as Nacho snatched it in his free hand. Lalo sat up and watched as Nacho slid the rubber over his own cock, stroking himself with a palmful of lube to full hardness. Even in the half-dark, Lalo could tell that Nacho wasn’t looking him in the eye. His focus remained more on his body, eyes raking over his chest and down his torso and between his legs.

He shuffled forward on his knees, pushing Lalo’s thighs up and around his waist. Only when he was leaning right over Lalo did Nacho look him in the eye. The breeze shifted the curtains, and in the light Lalo got a full look at the expression on Nacho’s face. He had expected lust or pride on Nacho’s features. Maybe the corners of his lips would be up in that rare self-assured smirk. Instead, he was greeted with a look of pure, untampered anger, his amber eyes almost glowing with it.

Lalo was not a man easily frightened. In that moment, he was rattled. 

He felt the hot, blunt head of Nacho’s shaft press against his entrance. He tried relaxing himself, but barely got a chance before Nacho was pushing in. Lalo groaned, burying his fingernails in Nacho’s shoulder as he pushed forward. Even that small comfort slipped out of reach as Nacho leaned back, burying himself further. No sooner had he bottomed out than he began thrusting, hard and fast, that angry expression still on his face. Lalo grit his teeth through it, still trying to figure out what could have possibly overcome his desperate Nachito.

It all became suddenly clear to Lalo. Ignacio wasn’t some pining sweetheart, and this wasn’t the culmination of weeks of burning looks and longing fantasies. He fucked Lalo like he hated him; like he was an itch he needed to scratch.

Oh no, this wouldn’t do. He wasn’t about to let some lieutenant, some street rat nobody pusher from this side of the border treat him like a cheap one-night stand.

Lalo bucked his hips hard, throwing Nacho off his balance. He landed hard on the other side of the bed, Lalo wasting no time climbing on top, pinning Ignacio beneath pin. Nacho fought him, trying to roll Lalo him off, but Lalo held him between his thighs and squeezed hard.

“Uh uh,” Lalo chastised him. “My roof, my rules.” He sat on Nacho’s hips, hands pinning his wrists above his head.

“You want to be the man in charge, then next time we can do this at your house.” He wrapped a hand around Nacho’s throat, and suddenly those angry eyes were flooded with fear.

“That was really rude, you know,” Lalo continued to tease. “You invite yourself over to my house, kiss me like your first girlfriend, then fuck me like you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Lalo was surprised by the harshness in his own tone, but it was justified. He had no idea who Nacho thought he was dealing with. He put more weight behind the hand on Nacho’s throat. He was indignant. Never in his life had he ever been treated with such disrespect. Most people had the good sense to tread carefully around anyone who carried the Salamanca name.

But Nacho had been good to him before now. He’d kept Tuco onside for the better part of a decade, and he’d risked the humiliation of being rejected by Lalo by coming here and admitting his feelings. What could had set him off? His grip loosened.

“Why’d you do it, then?” His question was honest, but he knew it would probably sound like a trap in Ignacio’s ears.

He blinked up at him, confused. Lalo sighed.

“I’m not fucking repeating myself, cariño. Why’d you do it?”

Nacho’s eyes fluttered. He tried moving under Lalo’s body, but his seat and his grip were both firm. His breath shortened, and the colour started draining from his face. An uncharacteristic pang of guilt settled in Lalo’s stomach. He’d wanted to spook Varga, not set off a heart attack.

He managed to compose himself, closing his eyes and breathing in long and deep. When he opened his eyes again, he stared up at Lalo with clear eyes.

“You drive me crazy,” Nacho admitted. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you.”

Lalo’s grip loosened at the admission. It was a lot more honesty than he’d been expecting.

“But you’ve made it so hard,” he continued. “You’re always toying with me, treating me like a piece in a game of chess. You and -” Ignacio cleared his throat. “You, and the pressure the job puts on me, I don’t know. I guess, in the moment, the worst part of me took over. I’m sorry, Lalo, truly. Please forgive me.”

The way he writhed on the bed and curled and uncurled his fists in the sheets made Lalo almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“Not a bad answer, Ignacio,” he said. “Do you think you’re prepared to finish what you started? Hm?”

Nacho nodded vigorously.

“And you won’t zone out and forget who you’re with?” Lalo asked. He held Nacho by the jaw and leaned down into his face. “Won’t forget who’s granted you the great privilege of fucking him?” He reached back and sunk back down onto him, as slowly as possible, to prove his point.

Ignacio’s chest rose and he let slip a moan. He shook his head frantically.

“I won’t forget,” he gasped, “I promise. Please, I – I need you.”

Lalo smiled. How could he ever deny such a sweet request? He leaned down and kissed Ignacio, who returned the gesture with great enthusiasm. Now that was more like it.

Lalo pressed their foreheads together, swiping a thumb over Nacho’s lower lip.

“Make it good, Nachito,” he said. “I know you can.”

Nacho nodded, eyes slipping closed and brow knitting in concentration. His hands trailed down to Lalo’s waist, fingers sinking into the flesh of his hips. Lalo allowed him to dictate a slow, gentle pace. He lay his palms flat on Nacho’s pecs, fingers pressing into the dense muscle appreciatively. Only on top did he realise how big he really was. He sunk down, easing all the way to the root. His fingers dug into Nacho’s pecs. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“I drive you crazy, huh?” Lalo goaded hoarsely. He shifted his weight into his palms and began riding Nacho in earnest. Nacho’s cockhead nudged his prostrate. Lalo breathed through a moan. “How crazy?”

He looked down at Ignacio, lying beneath him in the dark. The soft orange light and the stark shadow of the bedroom cleaved his face in half. Lalo could only make out one eye and the corner of his mouth. He just made out a white, dangerous flash of a smile.

“You want me to tell you, or show you?”

Lalo couldn’t stifle a laugh. “I’ve always preferred demonstrations over lectures.”

Lust shone through on the visible portion of Nacho’s face. He gripped Lalo tighter, and Lalo could feel him reposition his body, planting his feet flat on the bed.

Nacho’s hips shot up like a piston, and Lalo barked out a moan of half-shock and half-pleasure. It was a slower pace than what Lalo had set himself, but every thrust was brutal. Nacho was like a spring-loaded toy, winding up and taking his time before really giving it to him. Lalo’s grip on his chest faltered, and he collapsed to his forearms. Nacho’s fingers dug into his hips harder. Lalo let out a drawn-out man.

“Yeah,” Nacho half-whispered, half-growled. “Is that good? You like that?”

“Don’t stop,” Lalo ordered.

Nacho pulled Lalo down into a kiss. He dragged his hand down his neck, kneading the tense muscles in the back of his shoulders. A little sound of admiration slipped from Nacho’s mouth to his own. They were pressed chest to chest, Lalo’s cock caught between his and Nacho’s bodies, rubbed every time Nacho thrust up. Lalo closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling of it, moaning every time Nacho hit his prostate.

Lalo felt like he was being beaten into a different shape. He’d always guessed that Nacho would be good in the sack – his thick thighs and red-hot stare downs told him as much – but he never could have expected this. Somehow, this was exactly what he’d wanted from his weeks of quietly pursuing Nacho, and completely different from anything he’d imagined.

Barely missing a stroke of his thrusts, Nacho held Lalo to him and rolled them both over.

Lalo gasped in surprise as his back landed on the cool sheets. Nacho barely gave him a moment to adjust before he hauled his ankles up and over his shoulders, nearly folding Lalo in half beneath him.

Lalo’s whole body was alight. He felt even more of Nacho at this angle than he thought possible. His breathing grew ragged and his heart pounded wildly in his chest, and all the while Nacho kept fucking him, that tight, determined smile on his face. Lalo never realised how handsome his smile was until now. He wanted to see more of it.

“Look at you,” Nacho groaned. He pressed a hand to Lalo’s cheek. “You fucking love this. Bet this is the first time anyone’s been able to shut you up in years.” That pressing hand tapped him, not quite enough to be a slap. Lalo winced in annoyance. Nacho was pushing his luck, again.

“If you have the breath… to talk back,” he grunted, “you’re not working hard enough.”

Nacho sucked at his bottom lip, seemingly taking the jab to heart. He grabbed the back of Lalo’s thighs and spread him wider, before picking up the pace, hips snapping in a brutal rhythm.

The air rushed out of Lalo’s lungs in a wailing moan. His hands landed on the back of Nacho’s neck and he held on for dear life. He’d given up on even the illusion of modesty, his vocalisations competing in volume with the slapping of skin. All he could focus on was the heat building in the pit of his stomach, spreading to the crown of his head and the tips of his fingers.

“Look at me,” Nacho breathed. Lalo struggled to keep his eyes open to meet Nacho’s gaze. He reached between them and took a firm hold of Lalo’s cock, spreading precum from his head down to his base before jerking him in a speed that matched his thrusts.

“Fuck, Ignacio, that’s it…!” Lalo panted. It was all too much. All it took was another two hard thrusts and a solid squeeze at the base, and Lalo was done for. He dragged his nails viciously down Nacho’s back, pulling him as close as he possibly could. Little stars appeared on the edges of his vision. He sunk his teeth into Nacho’s shoulder as he came, shuddering hard and on the verge of tears.

Nacho kept it up for a few more thrusts, until his hips stuttered, and he sunk into Lalo’s shoulder, groaning through his orgasm. Nacho’s weight on him was comforting in the afterglow, but after a while he was in need of a full breath. He jostled Nacho, and he rolled onto his side. Lalo winced as he slipped out of him.

“Wow,” his visitor sighed.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Lalo rolled over, propping his head up on his hand. His fingers danced along Nacho’s chest. “You are really something, Ignacio.”

Nacho’s expression faltered in the half-dark. Maybe this was the moment he finally lost it. But his face softened and he pulled himself closer to Lalo. “High praise coming from you.”

Lalo chuckled. He kissed Nacho one more time, greedy and lingering.

He lay back, an arm thrown over his eyes. “we both need a shower.”

Nacho groaned. “I don’t know if I have it in me to get up right now.”

“Fine, you can sleep for a little while.” He pulled Nacho closer to him, and the other man curled against him, resting his head on Lalo’s broad chest. “I needed to change these sheets anyways. You’re staying the night, by the way.”

“Fair enough,” Nacho said through a yawn. “I don’t know if I trust myself driving like this anyways.” His eyelids grew heavy, and within a minute he was out cold on Nacho’s chest, leg thrown over his thighs and hand twitching against his solar plexus.

He glanced to the clock on his nightstand, red numbers telling him it was just past 1 in the morning.

Lalo was far too wired to sleep. He’d already gotten the handful of hours he needed earlier in the night, and he knew letting Nacho fall asleep on him would only mean having to move him at some point while he was deep asleep.

He glanced down at Nacho’s face. He looked like a different person in his sleep. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks, and every hard line on his face disappeared. He almost looked innocent.

Lalo laid his own hand over Nacho’s resting on his chest. Nacho, still partly awake, turned his hand over and interlocked their fingers. Lalo smiled. He lay back, sinking into the mattress and tried to follow his bed mate’s lead. However tonight had changed things between them, if it meant he would have to start looking for a new second-in-command and have Nacho live with him full-time, it could all wait until the sun came up.


End file.
